“If you have a lemon, make a lemonade” (Carnegie 1948; 1953). It’s a phrase we’ve all heard—on canvases, mugs, and the likes. It’s meant to be encouraging, a call to just keep going, no matter what. But what if you never had the tools, time, or ingredients to make that lemonade? 

While the saying has been attributed to figures like Dale Carnegie—who was born into poverty and later rose to fame—it’s since taken on a life of its own (Biography, 2022). These days, the phrase often overlooks how much privilege can shape someone’s path. It makes success seem like something people achieve completely on their own, even though some start with a lot more support than others, especially those from marginalized backgrounds. 

With news and media highlighting the Zuckerbergs, Musks, and other self-made success stories as proof that anything is possible if you just work hard enough, we tend to idolize these rare success stories—while quietly ignoring that up to 90% of startups fail (Eisenmann, 2021).  

It’s not that we shouldn’t dream big or take chances, but when we build cultural narratives only around the few who “made it,” we risk shaming everyone else who, despite their efforts, couldn’t beat the odds. It sends the message that if you don’t succeed, you just didn’t try hard enough. 

Those narratives tend to gloss over the privileges hidden in the success stories—framing resilience as a choice, while ignoring how some are handed full recipe kits and many others are left with just the lemons (i.e., no sugar, no water, no breaks). Overall, those individuals don’t have the same means to sweeten the outcome. 

The Burden of Positivity 

We’re told that optimism is empowering, that a positive mindset can pull us through anything, and that if we just squeeze hard enough, we’ll find something sweet in even the most sour situations. But for many, that pressure to stay upbeat becomes its own kind of weight. 

Toxic positivity—the idea that we must always look on the bright side—can silence legitimate pain (Reynolds, 2022). It suggests that if someone can’t turn their struggle into a success story, they’re simply not trying hard enough. Real resilience doesn’t always look pretty. It’s slow, exhausting, and not always visible. 

For those facing structural barriers—systemic racism, unaffordable housing, disability discrimination—positivity isn’t a quick fix. It can feel like a demand to stay positive, even when you’re under a lot of pressure and being crushed under expectations. Some people don’t have the luxury to take a break, let alone “pivot” into a better version of themselves. Sometimes, it all just keeps piling up. 

We admire those who “turn things around,” but we rarely ask what they had access to that others didn’t. The ability to “bounce back” often depends less on strength and more on a hidden cushion—family support, financial safety nets, and community resources. 

Media, Myth-Making, and the “Self-Made” Illusion 

Media loves an underdog. The college dropout who builds a billion-dollar app. The child of immigrants who climbs to CEO. These stories climb the headlines, TED Talks, and social media feeds—offering hope, but also constructing a myth: that anyone can “make it” if they just hustle hard enough. The modern truth–having access. Access is everything, whether social connections, elite education, or simply being born in the right zip code. Yet, when the spotlight only shows the outcome, not the support, we internalize the wrong lesson. If they made it, we think, why can’t I?  

And when we don’t? We blame ourselves, not the media that give us these cognitive biases (Pietrangelo, 2019). We hear from the 10% who thrive, not the 90% who don’t. The thousands of failed startups, the burned-out creatives, the workers who never got the break. Their stories aren’t as clickable—but they’re far more common. 

Again, ambition isn’t bad, but when success is always portrayed as individual, it makes systemic failure look like personal weakness. That’s the real danger of the self-made myth. 

Rethinking Success and Transparency 

The truth is – people do work hard. But effort and success stories don’t exist in a vacuum. Even in Western societies—where education and healthcare are more accessible—the quality of those services often depends on income, zip code, or social capital. Public schools in lower-income areas receive fewer resources, and navigating bureaucratic systems like student loans, housing, or mental healthcare can be exhausting, especially without guidance or support networks. When these resources are unevenly distributed, so are people’s chances of “making it.” 

Instead of holding up resilience as the universal solution, we need to question why some people are constantly forced to be resilient in the first place. Rather than telling people just to try harder, we can shift the conversation toward building fairer starting lines. That might mean expanding mentorship programs for first-generation students, investing in public services that are not only available but actually function, including for those with disabilities, and addressing discrimination in hiring practices (Bertrand & Mullainathan, 2004; Desmond, 2016; Irlbeck et al., 2014). It also means questioning why some people are praised for resilience while others are punished for struggling. 

But policy change isn’t everything, culture matters too. We need to unlearn the myth that hardship automatically builds character or guarantees success. It’s okay to be tired, to fail, and to acknowledge that being hard-working doesn’t always lead to the outcomes we’re sold.  

Real progress comes from both personal effort and everyone working together. We can start by pushing back against the idea that hustle is everything, and instead, define success as something that involves the community. When we value working together, helping each other, and supporting those who care for others, it challenges the idea that only “extraordinary” individuals are worthy of recognition. 

On a personal level, this can look like advocating for more inclusive spaces in your community or simply questioning when a story of success seems too neat. Because often, the real story is more complicated–and more collective–than it appears. 

Success shouldn’t be treated like some kind of test people have to pass just to prove they’re trying hard enough. Maybe the real issue isn’t that people aren’t doing enough and not making lemonade—it’s that we keep expecting them to work with less and still call it a fair shot.